


colorful mess

by cadyjanis



Series: jatchen [2]
Category: Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey
Genre: Coming Out, Crushes, Denial of Feelings, F/F, Feelings Realization, Friends to Lovers, Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-05 01:44:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17315714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cadyjanis/pseuds/cadyjanis
Summary: her chest hurts, burning like her heart is inflamed. now that she’s started, she doesn’t feel that bad about unloading on her. venting is healthy, right?“i can’t keep doing this,” she mutters, picking at her chipped nail polish. “you’re not my friend if you take advantage of me like this. i think i sorta deserve better than that.”—janis rescuing her drunk best friend one night leads to long-awaited confessions.





	colorful mess

**Author's Note:**

> i luv them SO much u guys
>
>> **trigger warnings:**   
>  alcoholism   
>  d slur

Janis’s Saturday nights are never particularly exciting.

 

She’ll hunker down in her basement with snacks and the TV remote, and maybe her cat if he’s feeling adventurous. Sometimes Damian will come over so it’s all that plus him.

 

Tonight it’s just her, because both him and Moony are doing their own thing. Her phone is dark and lifeless on the coffee table, never awake to alert her. Because she doesn’t have friends to text her about their weekend shenanigans.

 

Well. One friend. But that friend never seems to remember her.

 

It’s fine. Janis can’t expect much from Gretchen, who is popular and cute and has much cooler people to hang out with. Janis envies them, but so subtly she doesn’t even realize it. It doesn’t consume her, wondering who Gretchen is with. But sometimes she wishes it was her. Just her, with no one else around. Her and Janis on this old couch, watching bad movies.

 

You know. Girl things. Don’t girls do that?

 

Janis wouldn’t know because, again, she doesn’t have friends.

 

Maybe she’s a tad more bitter about it tonight than usual. Totally not because Gretchen vowed to come over then blew her off for Karen.

 

Janis tries to lose herself in the awful Hallmark movie she recorded, hoping its corny dialogue, cringeworthy kissing scenes, and repulsive plot will distract her. But her eyes keep glancing at her phone, thinking a bright reflection from the TV is a notification.

 

She isn’t sure why tonight would be any different.

 

It’s not that she thinks she isn’t like other girls (that’s internalized misogynistic bullshit), but she has moments where she wonders why she’s not good enough for literally anybody.

 

She knows the lesbian thing turns people off, but come on.

 

She’s finished her chips and candy and soda and the movie credits are rolling and it’s dawning on her how incredibly lonely she is and she wouldn’t wish this feeling on anybody. It gets quiet, and she stares at the screen, asking if she wants to delete the recording.

 

She’d delete herself if she could. Not in a suicidal way, just a temporary nonexistence deal. So time will pass and she can come back when she has to go to college or whatever. Not that shit would change by then, so that’s a dumb idea.

 

She has a headache, probably from the sugar, and decides to make it worse by picking up her phone. There’s nothing new, obviously, but now she’s feeling irate towards Gretchen. She is a good friend to her, and for what? She does not rescue her drunk ass and go on shopping trips with her only to be treated like this. Janis opens their messages, prepared to go off on a rant.

 

But then, as fate would have it, Gretchen calls her before she can.

 

Janis is startled by the sudden ringing and stares at the contact name, this weird feeling in her stomach. But then she taps the green button.

 

“Hey,” she greets, hoping she doesn’t sound as annoyed as she is.

 

“Janis!” Gretchen’s drunk voice shrieks. She hiccups. “Um. Girl, hey. I need a ride.”

 

Janis rolls her eyes, that sense of foreboding going away, because this literally isn’t surprising. She’s lost count of the number of times Gretchen has asked for a ride.

 

She could say no. Tell her to call someone else. But her keys are right on the side table, dusty truck waiting in the driveway, a blanket for Gretchen already tucked under the seat. Janis likes to be prepared. She’d do anything for her.

 

She really would. And as irritated as she is, who else is going to come to Gretchen’s aid?

 

Any number of things could happen to her the one time Janis leaves her to her own devices. It is dangerous to let a drunken Gretchen wander on her own. Janis can’t do that to her.

 

She sighs, hauling herself off the sofa. “Okay. Where are you?”

 

* * *

 

Janis’s skin crawls as she pulls into the neighborhood. There is nothing particularly wrong with it at first glance, but just knowing Gretchen is wasted in the dark makes her wary.

 

Gretchen said she’d be waiting on the nearest bench just past the gates, but Janis doesn’t see her as she pulls up. Swallowing down the panic, she hops out of her truck but leaves it running in case she has to make a quick getaway.

 

“Gretch?” she calls out, eyes slowly adjusting to the dark.

 

She hears a groan just beyond the metal bench, and rushes towards it. She makes out a body sprawled on the grass, and hisses Gretchen’s name as she gets closer.

 

“Janis?” the other girl moans, and Janis drops to her knees in relief, hands fluttering helplessly because she still can’t fucking see anything.

 

“Hey. Are you okay? Did you fall?” She finds Gretchen’s waist, and helps her sit up, and a light from a window up ahead helps a little. Gretchen touches her head, face pinched, then shrugs.

 

“You don’t remember?” Janis pushes, and Gretchen makes a noncommittal noise. “Okay. Let’s go, party girl, up you go.” Janis hooks an arm around her neck and, with great effort, hauls her friend to her feet. Gretchen is off balance, and Janis notices she’s missing a shoe. She smiles, but doesn’t know why that’s so endearing.

 

They stumble back to the rumbling truck, and Gretchen gratefully climbs in, Janis close behind her. Janis retrieves the blanket and drapes it over her friend, who looks even worse in the light of the dashboard. Janis keeps the overhead off, not wanting to bother her.

 

Janis buckles Gretchen’s seatbelt after her own, then makes a U-turn. Whenever they reach a stoplight, Janis will look over to make sure she’s breathing.

 

She cares so much about someone who only ever seems to in return on her terms.

 

Maybe that’s just karma for Janis being a useless lesbian, because she sure as hell is aware it wouldn’t matter so much to her if she didn’t wish Gretchen was more than a friend.

 

She hates thinking about that, though. So she shoves it down, slams the lid on a box that can’t and shouldn’t be opened. It’d hurt too much.

 

Hell, it already fucking does.

 

* * *

 

Janis gently jostles Gretchen awake once they’re back at her house. Gretchen swats her hand away and Janis rolls her eyes. She walks around to Gretchen’s side, taking a deep breath. It is either a very stupid or very brave idea, but she has to at least try.

 

She coaxes Gretchen out enough to gather her in her arms, hoisting her off the pavement with as much strength she can muster. She’s surprised to discover Gretchen isn’t that heavy, which is both concerning and a relief. She shuts the door with her elbow and carries the sleeping girl, busting open the basement door from behind, having left it the slightest bit ajar for this.

 

Always thinking ahead, especially for Gretchen.

 

Janis gets her on the couch right before her arms give out, and resituates the blanket so she’ll stay warm. She removes her lone heel, then closes and locks the back door. She cleans up so it won’t look like a junkyard when Gretchen comes to.

 

If she does, honestly. She’s snoring.

 

Janis goes upstairs to the empty kitchen to pour a glass of water and retrieve a few Ibuprofens for the inevitable migraine Gretchen is going to have. After leaving them on the table, she gets out an empty bucket and dusts it off, leaving it by Gretchen’s head lest the worst happen. Only a few times has _that_ occurred, but Janis knows you can never be too careful.

 

Janis paces for a bit, watching Gretchen sleep. After careful deliberation, Janis peels back the blanket and maneuvers Gretchen’s purse off her body, which miraculously survived. Gretchen gets more comfortable now that it’s gone, and Janis goes to sit on her dad’s old recliner.

 

She takes out Gretchen’s phone, wiping smudges off its sleek surface prior to tapping into her texts. She isn’t snooping, just doing her duty of evening caretaker. She shoots Mrs. Wieners a text, letting her know it’s Janis and that Gretchen is staying the night; Gretchen’s mom isn’t the least bit surprised, and thanks Janis for looking out for her.

 

Janis wonders how honest Gretchen really is with her parents. There is no way they’d actually let her go to so many parties on a bi-weekly basis, knowing their seventeen-year-old daughter is drinking with sleazy boys and college kids.

 

Janis doubts Gretchen even knows where the hell she is sometimes. She just gets invited and can’t pass up the opportunity to get wasted. Which is starting to feel like a problem.

 

Janis’s dad was an alcoholic. So now it’s just her and her mom, who is working late. Janis isn’t sure if this is the same, but she’s considerably more attached to Gretchen.

 

God help her, truly. This seems like a mess all around.

 

A stupid, weird, colorful mess that she doesn’t want to clean up.

 

Janis decides it’s safe to leave Gretch, enough to go take a shower. She leaves the basement door ajar just a little, then trudges upstairs.

 

Her mom has just gotten home when Janis exits her room, clad in sweats with no makeup and damp hair. She greets her mom with an obligatory long hug, in the middle of the kitchen under the fluorescent light. Ms. Sarkisian sighs, having missed her, too.

 

Janis glances at the basement door before sitting down at the counter, and they talk in hushed voices about their day. Even if Gretchen wasn’t here, they’d talk quietly, because her mom is a nurse and is probably on sensory overload by now.

 

Ms. Sarkisian is also not shocked to hear their favorite guest is crashing on the couch. “Where was she this time?” she asks, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.

 

Janis shrugs. “Some neighborhood fifteen minutes from here. About an hour ago.”

 

Her mother nods. “I worry about you girls.”

 

Janis grins. “Nah. I can handle it. She makes me nervous, though.”

 

 _In more ways than one,_ she doesn’t say, and stomps out the thought, almost feeling ashamed. She knows her mom doesn’t care that she’s gay, but being gay and actively having a crush on a girl seem like separate things. Especially that girl.

 

“Make sure she stays hydrated when she wakes up,” her mom advises.

 

“Already have water waiting for her,” Janis sighs.

 

“You’re a good friend. I love you.” A swift kiss on the cheek. “’Kay, I’m clocking out. Night.”

 

“G’night, Mama,” Janis echoes, and once she’s disappeared upstairs, Janis shuts off the light and returns to the basement to keep watch.

 

* * *

 

Janis doesn’t remember falling asleep, and is awakened by the annoying prickle of sunlight on her eyelids. She jerks in the recliner, coming to with a start, like she just fell.

 

“You good?” a croaky voice asks, and she blinks in Gretchen’s direction. Gretchen is sitting up with the blanket still in her lap, squinting against the light.

 

“Hi,” Janis yawns, emerging from her own blanket and shuffling her feet back into her slippers. (They’re red with Elmo’s on them, a birthday gift from Damian last year.) Gretchen scoots over so Janis can sit next to her. She looks shy, unlike her usual post-party carelessness.

 

She’s drank half her water and taken the pills, though, so at least she is taking care of herself. They sit there in the early morning silence, the kind that’s warm and dusty and still. Janis feels like she could fall back to sleep, right here.

 

“You can go shower, if you want,” she hears herself murmur.

 

“Hm?” Gretchen looks at her. “Oh. I mean, would you mind? Is your mom here?”

 

Janis gets up to peer out the window at the driveway, where Ms. Sarkisian’s car is gone. “No,” she informs Gretchen, who sags with relief. Janis grins. “Why, does she scare you?”

 

“God, does she,” Gretchen drawls, making grabby hands so Janis will help her up. “Be honest, Jan, does she hate me? I feel like she hates me.”

 

Janis steadies her friend before answering. “Of course not. She likes you.”

 

Gretchen appears doubtful, then whispers, “She’s shorter than me but still intimidates the crap out of me. Like, she’s so badass, I feel like she could bite my head off.”

 

Janis laughs out loud. “I feel that way, too.”

 

“Well, yeah, because she’s your mom,” Gretchen points out, this soft look in her eyes, like that laugh made her feel something. “Mine isn’t even that scary.”

 

Janis playfully smacks her on the ass. “Go shower, Wieners,” she says, turning on the TV.

 

She swears Gretchen is blushing, but can’t be sure.

 

Gretchen is up there a long time. When she comes down, Janis hears her in the kitchen, trying to scavenge for food. Janis is surprised she’s even as hungry and lucid as she is.

 

Or maybe Gretchen has just been drunk so many times her body just burns the alcohol. Which actually seems like a pretty fetch superpower.

 

She returns with cranberry juice and Doritos, which is an interesting combo, but Janis isn’t in a place to question her hangover cures. Gretchen puts the bag between them, at least, so Janis won’t complain. She finds Law & Order and that’s how the rest of the morning goes, finishing a bag of Doritos and watching intense lawyers yell at people trying to cover their asses.

 

Gretchen remembers to text her mom at some point, and Janis’s writes to ask how they are. It makes sense why Ms. Sarkisian would intimidate Gretchen—surely all that drinking is frowned upon by both a widowed mother and certified nurse.

 

“How’s your head?” Janis asks when she gets Gretchen more water.

 

“Hurts,” Gretchen admits, taking it. “Thanks. Not just—for the water.” She blushes again. God, that’s cute. Janis wishes she didn’t find that as adorable as she does.

 

She remembers her initial irritation then, deflating when she recalls their botched movie plans. She’s afraid to bring it up, as usual, but this time feels different, in a weird way. Like she owes it to herself to put her foot down. But then she’d feel guilty.

 

She reminds herself she’s not the bad friend here. She does the absolute most for this girl and all she asks in return is some consideration. If Gretchen wanted to bail, she could’ve told Janis rather than let her find out through Instagram. Like Janis isn’t worth a simple text.

 

Gretchen picks up on Janis’s sudden stiffness and gives her a look. “What’s the matter?”

 

“Nothing,” Janis says, looking for something else to watch.

 

Gretchen awkwardly sips her water. It’s quiet again, and Janis really doesn’t want to fight. She doesn’t know what she wants, honestly.

 

“Maybe I should go home,” Gretchen says after a while. She’s wearing Janis’s sweats, hoards them like she forgets to give them back when she gets there.

 

“You can stay,” Janis says, shrugging, because it doesn’t really matter at this point.

 

A pause. “Are you mad at me?” Gretchen asks softly.

 

Janis could say no, claim she’s just tired and grouchy. But she doesn’t because she can’t lie to herself or Gretchen anymore. She mutes the TV and says, “Yeah, a little.”

 

Gretchen’s eyes get big. “Why, what did I do?”

 

Janis scowls. “Oh, I dunno. You skipped out on me to go to some stupid party with Karen. And it sucks because that’s not the first time.”

 

Gretchen gapes, like she wasn’t aware how damaging that was until now. She shrinks into the couch meekly. “Right,” she murmurs, playing with the edge of her blanket.

 

“Right,” Janis repeats, crossing her arms. “I do a lot for you, Gretch. A few nights where you’re interested in _me_ for once is all I ask. And if you don’t wanna actually be friends, just tell me. Or find someone else to take care of you when you’re flat-out wasted in a random neighborhood.”

 

Her chest hurts, burning like her heart is inflamed. Now that she’s started, she doesn’t feel that bad about unloading on her. Venting is healthy, right?

 

“I can’t keep doing this,” she mutters, picking at her chipped nail polish. “You’re not my friend if you take advantage of me like this. I think I sorta deserve better than that.”

 

She sniffs and tries very hard not to cry, frustration building up inside her and behind her eyes. Gretchen listens patiently, embarrassed.

 

“Do you even like me?” Janis feels compelled to ask, letting all the hurt show on her face. “Am I a friend to you, or just that girl who helps you when nobody else will?”

 

Gretchen looks wounded, but it’s self-inflicted. Janis definitely doesn’t feel bad. Not now.

 

“I—of course you’re my friend,” Gretchen murmurs, and Janis huffs. “No, really, you are. We’re study partners, and we sit together at lunch.”

 

“I sit on one end and you sit on another,” Janis reminds her venomously. “That does not count. And when was the last time we studied together? Three months ago?”

 

Gretchen goes to argue, then realizes she’s right. “Oh.”

 

“Yeah. Oh.” Janis inhales, trying not to fall apart.

 

She knows now, subconsciously, that she wouldn’t be so upset if she hadn’t begun liking her—more than a regular person likes their friend.

 

And she doesn’t even know _why._ Why would she do that to herself? Why crush on this “friend” who is flaky and rude and only ever seems to contact Janis outside school when she needs to leave a party, or someone to help her pick out new shoes? It’s not like she’s also super smart and pretty and funny and can be sweet when she feels like it. She smells really good. Janis recalls being distracted on that study date, since Gretchen’s perfume or shampoo was delightful. It was a rather gay moment for Janis.

 

So, okay. Gretchen _does_ have redeeming qualities. Enough, apparently, for Janis to justify this crush. And there have been times where Gretchen reached out to check on her, especially the days after her dad’s funeral a couple years ago. She remembers going back to school and the only person who gave her a hug was Gretchen.

 

That’s not a good enough basis for a crush, but all the other things are.

 

Gretchen Wieners is singlehandedly the most confusing person Janis has ever known, but she has consistently shown her more kindness in two years than anybody.

 

Despite her frequent partying and selective considerateness, Janis loves her a lot. She’s been her only friend—and crush—for so long.

 

“I’m sorry,” Gretchen whispers, breaking another silence. “I’m really sorry. I—I didn’t know how that was affecting you. I…” She bites her lip, deliberating something. The look in her eyes isn’t necessarily frightened, just uncertain, like what she wants to say may not be well received. But she tries anyway, Janis can give her credit for that. “Can I be honest?” she asks.

 

“Please,” Janis grumbles, nothing left to lose now.

 

“Um—well, first of all, I miss you,” Gretchen confesses. “I miss when we used to hang out every day, and I know I’ve been ruining that, and I’m sorry. I just, um—I don’t know. Things are…weird.”

 

Janis frowns. “With who? Me?”

 

“No, no.” Gretchen shakes her head, appearing nervous and uncomfortable. “No, not you. Me. I feel…weird. Lately. I think…since our study date.”

 

Janis blinks at her. This just took a turn.

 

“Weird, like—okay, not to excuse me ditching you or anything, I do feel bad about that,” though that seems doubtful given how often she does it, “but—there is a reason.”

 

“’Kay,” Janis sighs, already tired. “What?”

 

Gretchen stares at her for a long, wistful moment, like she’s trying to telepathically explain. “I’d never really questioned anything until then,” she continues, and Janis raises an eyebrow. “Like my sexuality and stuff. After that night.”

 

Janis’s jaw drops. She can’t help it. Is Gretchen doing what Janis thinks she’s doing?

 

Gretchen rubs her hands over her face, and Janis sees they’re shaking. “Okay, no, let me start over,” Gretchen pleads, and Janis still has no clue what’s going on.

 

“I don’t think I’m…straight,” Gretchen finally admits, quietly. “But then we were together and for some reason on that particular day I just…looked at you and realized how pretty you are. Like, I knew that already, but this was different. And it freaked me out because I’d never been… You know, attracted to a girl before, let alone my friend. So then after I just started seeing people in a way I hadn’t before. I felt like a new person.”

 

Janis honest to God cannot comprehend what she is telling her. It seems too good to be true.

 

“Regina looked different. And Karen. And every girl I saw.” Gretchen shudders like the memory of her personal coming out is too intense to bear. “And I was upset because, what the hell? I’d never been attracted to girls a day in my life and all of a sudden it was like everything I thought about guys was now being projected onto all these girls. Like a switch in my brain.”

 

She stops to catch her breath, but is looking at Janis like she expects her to start shouting. But obviously Janis won’t. At least, not about this.

 

“So. Yeah.” Gretchen fidgets, unnerved by Janis’s ongoing silence. “I think I’m a lesbian.”

 

That pulls Janis out of her shocked daze, and she inhales like she hasn’t breathed in minutes. “Okay,” is all her befuddled brain can think to say. “Awesome. Me, too.”

 

That breaks the ice a little, and they laugh, because everyone has known Janis is a dyke since seventh grade, before she even figured it out.

 

“Really, Gretch, that’s awesome,” Janis tells her sincerely, leaning over to hug her. Gretchen is surprised, but hugs her back tightly to show her gratitude. Like Janis wouldn’t be supportive.

 

“I’m scared, though,” she murmurs, voice muffled by Janis’s shoulder.

 

“I know,” Janis sighs, stroking her back. Her head is spinning because it’s so much to grasp—but there’s pride beneath all of it, and love for her friend.

 

Gretchen is still nervous when they part, but Janis stays closer than before.

 

“So,” Gretchen says, gearing up to make a point, “um… That feeling hasn’t gone away. What I felt about you, I mean. I still think—I still think that. And it…it scares the crap out of me. So me ditching you and stuff… I know I don’t always do it, but more often than not. And I’m sorry. But, I say yes because I want to see you, but then I panic and do something else instead because I start wondering what will happen. Like, being around you…it only makes it more real.”

 

Janis gets that. She gets that one hundred percent.

 

“And it’s dumb and unfair, but—I like you, and I don’t know how to handle it.” Gretchen shrugs. “So I freak out. But then I get drunk and the only person I trust to take care of me is you. Other people don’t care about me as much as you do. And that—that’s why I like you. You’re so kind and generous… Which makes me look like a total asshole.”

 

Janis laughs. “Yeah, a little bit,” she teases, but her face is warm from the compliments.

 

Gretchen winces. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I am an asshole. It’s not fair, even though I like you—and that makes it worse. But it’s weird because I always _want_ to be near you, but mostly when I’m drunk. ’Cause it’s safe here, and you let me stay. And I dunno, it’s nice knowing I have you there when I need you. But…” She looks down at their loosely entwined hands. “I shouldn’t do that only when it benefits me. I’m sorry.”

 

Janis nods. She feels better about it now that she knows why, although Gretchen was right, it’s not an excuse. But she’s too elated over the fact Gretchen likes her to care much.

 

“Thanks,” Janis says softly. “For, uh. Telling me all that.”

 

Gretchen lifts a shoulder. “Yeah. Thanks for being honest. I’ll do better.”

 

Janis can’t deny her the dignity of accepting her well-intentioned apology. Maybe it just proves further what a pushover she is, but can tell Gretchen means it.

 

Now is her chance, then, to admit something in return.

 

“We’re still friends, right?” Gretchen asks anxiously, right as she’s going to bring it up.

 

“Yeah,” Janis says. “Of course. If you wanna be.”

 

Gretchen nods. “Yes, absolutely. And I don’t mean to make it weird, if me liking you makes you feel weird, we don’t have to—I mean, if you need space—”

 

“Gretchen.” Janis squeezes her hand. “I don’t need space. I’ve already had too much space.”

 

Gretchen blushes, and Janis wants to kiss her cheeks.

 

Janis takes a deep breath, because there’s no going back now. “Um. Okay. I wasn’t ever going to tell you this, mostly because I literally just realized it today, but… Um. I like you, too, Gretch. More than I thought I could, because I get so frustrated with you all the time, but…underneath it all I’m just glad I know you, because you are a good person, and the times we do spend with each other are nice. You’ve been a good friend, all things considered. And things make sense, now that you’ve explained. And I still like you.”

 

Now it’s Gretchen’s turn to be surprised. Which is hilarious. And adorable.

 

“Wow,” she eventually says. “Um. Okay. Wasn’t expecting that.”

 

Janis hums a laugh. “I wasn’t either.”

 

There’s a pause since neither were prepared for this, though it does feel good to get it off their chests. But there’s a feeling of “now what?” hanging over them. Janis is stumped.

 

Do they kiss, or what? Janis has never kissed anyone.

 

“Maybe I should go,” Gretchen whispers.

 

“No, don’t.” Janis grips her hand tighter, unsure how to proceed but also not wanting her to go. “You can stay. I mean, if you want to. I don’t mind.”

 

Gretchen looks apologetic. Her eyes glance at Janis’s lips. Janis’s gut twists.

 

“I don’t know how to do this,” Gretchen admits, looking lost and ashamed. “There is no lesbian guidebook to consult when you’re confused. Which I definitely am.”

 

“That’s okay,” Janis assures her. “I get confused all the time. It’s hard. Being gay kind of sucks. You question yourself constantly. And if you’re with someone, you never know what people will say. We can’t just exist like straight people do.”

 

Gretchen shakes her head. “Apparently not. I mean, I knew that already. But yeah.”

 

“Being a girl who likes girls is the worst,” Janis muses. “But it’s also kind of the best, because I get to crush on someone as beautiful as you.”

 

Gretchen laughs, then covers her face with her hands. “God. That’s gay.”

 

“Mmhm.” Janis is grinning, overjoyed she gets to talk about this with someone. Lesbians aren’t really a thing at North Shore. The gay population begins and ends with the theater kids.

 

So it’s been alienating being the only out lesbian there.

 

Not that Gretchen has to come out, but it’s a relief to know someone who gets it.

 

“I’m just scared,” Gretchen squeaks, hands on either side of her face. “I don’t know what to do. I like you so much. But I’m scared that I like you.”

 

“I am, too,” Janis confesses gently. “That’s the point, I guess. We can be scared together.”

 

“Yeah,” Gretchen agrees, her eyes on Janis’s mouth again. She’s visibly too afraid to do it, but Janis isn’t. Sometimes you have to take risks because you know they’ll be worth it.

 

She leans forward and presses her lips to Gretchen’s in the softest kiss imaginable. It is hardly a kiss, more like an asking of permission. Gretchen is still for a second, then shuts her eyes as she returns it. Neither know what the hell they’re doing but it’s the sweetest kind of awkward. It gets better once they overcome the initial shock of _holy shit we’re doing this,_ and Janis lays on her back and invites Gretchen to sprawl on top.

 

Gretchen eagerly settles on Janis’s torso, finding her mouth again with no intent to stop. Janis, having been waiting for this without even realizing she was, is okay with that.

 

Gretchen Wieners is an obscenely good kisser. Needy, and teasing, and slow. Janis has spent hours wondering what it’d be like to kiss a girl.

 

This is better than anything she could have imagined or hoped for.

 

She sneaks her hands under Gretchen’s shirt, hands skimming down her arched spine and it’s like touching something holy. It’d leave her breathless if she wasn’t already.

 

Janis’s insides are doing all sorts of funky things, and it’s amazing. She’s really kissing a girl—not just any girl, but Gretchen. What the hell.

 

Gretchen breaks for air at some point, looking down at Janis like she can’t believe it. “Hi.”

 

“Hi,” Janis echoes, pulling her back with a finger on her chin.

 

They don’t talk about the what-ifs or why’s, content to stay on the sofa as lips and hands roam wherever they please. There’s no fear here, not even a hint of doubt.

 

It’s nice to know Gretchen is as into her while sober as she is while drunk.

 

Maybe not such a mess after all, Janis thinks. But it’s still colorful.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! kudos and comments are fetch ♡


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